


Careless

by ZosiaRose



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-11-16 21:34:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11261460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZosiaRose/pseuds/ZosiaRose
Summary: It was a slow night in the Enterprise sickbay and Bones just wants to go to sleep. What happens when Spock walks in the door?





	1. Chapter 1

Author’s Note: So I wrote this a couple weeks ago as a sort of birthday present to myself (I wanted to get at least one productive thing done) but haven’t had a chance to finish it until now. Sorry for the ending. I know it’s a bit rushed and abrupt but I didn’t really know how to end it. Anyways, thanks for reading!

Love and well wishes,

Zosia Rose

It was a slow night in the Enterprise sickbay. The last few patients from the battle the week before had all been released, and the nurses were enjoying a much needed break. Dr. McCoy, however, was spending it reviewing reports and filing a few of his own reports. It had gotten late and after nodding off a couple times, he decided that he was going to need some caffeine if he was going to be able to stay awake while doing something so utterly boring this late. He got up slowly, cursing his aching bones, and decided that that was the last time he was going to pull an all-nighter just to finish a few lousy reports. As he poured his coffee, a huge yawn escaped his lips. It was so loud that it almost masked the whoosh of his office door opening behind him. Almost. McCoy turned to face his visitor with steaming mug in hand. He had expected it to be Jim worked up about some woman spurning his advances as usual. It wasn’t. To his surprise, Spock stood in the doorway instead, framed by the bright fluorescent lights from the sickbay behind. He nodded in greeting, “Doctor.”

McCoy wondered briefly why Spock was there. The reports were almost done, there were no patients to check up on, and, knowing Spock’s lack of emotions, he wasn’t there to chat. Suddenly, McCoy didn’t care why he was there anymore, he just wanted Spock to leave so he could finally get some sleep. His annoyance at the interruption (as well as who exactly had interrupted) and his exhaustion made his normally gruff tone even harsher than usual, “What do you want, you pointy-eared hobgoblin? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Spock half turned back towards the exit, “Perhaps I should come back at a different time, then.”

That got McCoy’s attention. No matter how tired and fed up a doctor is, he is still a doctor. And a doctor knows a change in character when he sees one. Spock’s sudden change of mind, paired with the flash of an undecipherable something in his eyes when McCoy called him the familiar nickname, let alone the nonexistence of a witty retort thrown back his way in exchange was definitely not Spock’s usual behavior. Hell, the doctor had seen him almost every day since the beginning of the mission and for all that time the Vulcan had never been anything less than stoic. Slightly interested at times, yes, but never like this...whatever this was. Something was wrong. But what? He planned to find out.

McCoy ran his hand through his hair, then sank into the nearest chair, “No, Spock. The reports can wait. What is it you wanted?”

He looked Spock over with a critical eye now that his doctor side had been triggered. He found that Spock was holding himself extremely stiffly. Well, more stiffly than usual at least and that's saying something. He looked as if he were full of pent up energy and he was holding his hands in front of him for once, seemingly cradling his right arm. He carefully unclasped his hand from around his wrist, revealing it as heavily burned and cocked at an odd angle. Bones could be seen poking out of the skin, marring his pale complexion. If McCoy had been a more inexperienced doctor, he would have gasped. But he wasn’t, so in the time it takes a normal person to process the image, McCoy was up and fully ready to act. He pushed Spock over to the closest biobed, bone-knitter already in hand, “What did you do to the damn thing?”

Spock was uncharacteristically soft spoken, “I was merely careless while performing an experiment, Doctor. There is no cause for concern.”

McCoy stared at him in disbelief, medical tools momentarily pausing in their work. Spock? Careless? There were many things Spock was but careless was certainly not one of them. But the opposite was just as insane, if not more. Spock didn’t lie. Sure, he was able to, but he had said that he found the idea abhorrent unless absolutely needed.

“Doctor?”

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Spock’s careful question. He scowled at the Vulcan, then quickly rethought his body language. He shifted his stance so he appeared less threatening, forced his mouth into a comforting smile, and made his voice soft and smooth, “Spock, what happened to your wrist?”

Spock’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. If McCoy hadn’t been looking for it, he was sure that he would’ve missed it. He wondered briefly how many other emotional cues he had missed because he wasn’t looking hard enough. Spock’s voice had gotten even softer, “I already informed you of the incident. Nothing else occurred.”

McCoy sighed and ran his hand through his grizzled hair, this time in annoyance, “Look, Spock, I’m a doctor. My job is to help people. Even when they don’t want to be helped. And I can’t help you unless you tell me the truth.”

Spock was silent, obviously considering the idea carefully in his huge brain. Then, after a long moment, came the quiet confession, “There was a...malfunction in one of my tools. When I went to use it, it exploded. The shock wave pushed me backwards. I lost consciousness at that point as my head was the first part of my body to hit the wall. The last thing I remember is Ensign Jacobs standing over me, grinning.”

The doctor saw red. Not literally, of course, that wasn’t medically possible, but he felt that if it was, he would be. “One of the crew did this to you?!” he growled.

Spock nodded slowly, “Unfortunately, that is the conclusion I have come to.”

“Why the hell didn’t you report this immediately after you woke up?!” he shook his head, “No, never mind. That’s not important right now. What’s important is that we catch this son of a bitch and make sure he is punished.”

He strode to the comm unit and pushed the talk button, “Jim, get down here.”

A moment of static, then the Captain’s boyish voice came through, “Aw, Bones, do I have too? I was just about to go to sleep.”

“Now, Jim!” McCoy’s demand left no room for disobedience.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Be patient,” the comm shut off, announcing Captain Kirk’s leaving of his room.

“He better be quick,” McCoy muttered darkly, before turning back to Spock, “I’ll never let him hurt anyone again, Spock. I promise.”

Spock remained silent, letting his gratitude shine through his eyes instead.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a slow morning on the Enterprise bridge. Chekov and Sulu were chatting at the helm, Scotty was deep in conversation with Uhura at Communications, and the rest were lounging at their stations. Everything was jovial and relaxed. The pleasant atmosphere was shattered when Kirk stalked out of the turbolift. He stalked onto the bridge, body tense, fists clenched, visibly shaking. He went straight to his chair and sat down heavily. He tried to read a report on the Padd he had left there earlier but his eyes never managed to progress from the first word and he soon threw it to the floor with a clatter. The sudden noise broke the shocked silence, jolting everyone back into action. Kirk stood, giving up on getting any work done. He glanced around, only now remembering that he wasn’t the only one there, to see all eyes on him. Kirk took a deep breath, trying to quell his rising anger. He was going to find whoever had hurt his First Officer and make him pay. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if he exploded.

He kept his voice calm and level as he announced what had happened. Technically, it wasn’t protocol but they would’ve found out on their own sooner or later anyway, “One of the crew attacked Spock.”

Their jaws dropped. More than a few had to hastily grab onto something to keep from falling over. Uhura was the first to recover her voice, though it was shaky with anger and fear, “What happened?”

“Ensign Jacobs rigged his one of his tools to explode in his face. Luckily, the device he used to do so didn’t work right so Spock only got a concussion and a badly broken wrist. If it had worked...” he sank back into his chair, head in his hands, the realization of what could have happened if everything had gone to the ensign’s plan hitting him full force, “If it had worked, Spock would be dead.”

Earlier that night, Ensign Jacobs sat at a table in Rec Room 3, surrounded by crew members taking advantage of the brief lull in action. He smiled to himself, thinking about what had occurred earlier that night. That half-breed Vulcan had gotten what was coming to him at last. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes, relishing the memory of the “accident” that had befallen the First Officer. The unfocused look in it’s glassy eyes as it stared up at him filled his heart with a quiet contentment, a sense that everything was right with the world again. If everything went to plan, and he would ensure that it did, the half-breed would resign like the coward it was. He let the warm feeling wash over him, allowing the sound of the explosion to be his lullaby as he drifted off to sleep.

He woke hours later to a caustic voice shouting something indecipherable in his half-awake state. He sighed slightly, vaguely annoyed that someone else’s argument was interrupting his nap, and attempted to go back to sleep. A sharp slap startled him awake to find the Chief of Security glowering at him, “Get up.”

When Jacobs did so, Giotto signaled to the two redshirts behind him. One of them held him still while the other handcuffed him.

“May I ask why I’m being arrested, sir?” Jacobs tried to sound as polite as possible, despite the annoyance he still felt.

Giotto raised his eyebrows and gave a loud, mirthless laugh, “You made a colossal mistake, Jacobs. You targeted the wrong Vulcan.”

Jacobs rolled his eyes and let himself be frogmarched to the brig, his gracious smiles directed at the various crew members milling about returned by glares and the turning of backs. All but one, that is. A woman lurking behind everyone else caught his eye and graced him with the slightest turning up of her lips before turning on her heel and striding away.


End file.
